


The Fifth Muse

by hellomiho



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Normal AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25603684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomiho/pseuds/hellomiho
Summary: If Vivaldi had his Four Seasons, Kaiou Michiru had her Four Muses.-For all that Kaiou Michiru may have been her mother, Hotaru knows nothing of the woman who died when she was three. Now twenty years old, Hotaru sets off on a journey to know her mother by meeting the four women her mother had once painted so intimately.
Relationships: Kaiou Michiru/Tenoh Haruka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Prologue

For all that Kaiou Michiru may have been her mother, Hotaru knew nothing of the woman.

She'd died of a car accident when she was three and all Hotaru remembered of her was faint wisps of bergamot in the air and flashes of bright, turquoise hair. But even then, she couldn't tell if those were real memories of her mother or something her mind had manufactured based on the articles she'd read and the pictures they'd contained.

How many times had she stared at herself in the mirror, searching for a sign of her mother in the angles of her face, only to turn away in frustration. There was nothing of the beautiful artist in Hotaru; she was entirely her father's daughter and in a strange twist, she looked more like her stepmother Keiko than she did her mother with her pin straight black hair and dark, shallow eyes (nothing like the dark, bottomless depths that taunted Hotaru in every photograph with the mysteries they held, her mother elusive even in death).

It was no use asking the adults in her life as well. Her grandfather and father adored her to no end but their grief seemed ever fresh whenever Hotaru brought up to the topic of her mother and eventually, the guilt at causing them such visible pain grew to stop her from asking even as her need to know more grew.

The biggest sources of information she had on her mother were old newspapers and her mother's art: her mother had been a celebrated artist before her death, the belle of the art world. Kaiou Michiru had been young, beautiful, charismatic, talented, and rich; a person would have been lucky to have any of these traits but her mother had somehow had them all and they had garnered her the same attention as would have been given to a celebrity.

Her mother's death at an early age had further cemented her place in the industry and now her artwork hung in museums around the country. But most famous of all was her mother's untitled collection of paintings, affectionately called "The Four Muses" by her fans.

If Vivaldi had his Four Seasons, Kaiou Michiru had her Four Muses: a series of paintings exploring the same four women in different perspectives, the culmination of her mastery over the medium.

The identities of the four women and their relationship to Hotaru's mother had been a long running mystery and a favoured topic of discussion amongst historians; the brush strokes were too sensuous not to be those of a lover, some argued. The paintings were almost uncomfortably intimate, going beyond the flesh on display and somehow capturing their subjects' souls so exactingly that Michiru must have known them deeply.

The first time Hotaru had come across these speculations in biographies, she had felt herself blush. It was unbelievably strange to read strangers trying to puzzle out her mother's sexual history in such formal and explicit detail but it had also been illuminating.

Because this suggested that there were four women out there who had known her mother well and if her family would not help her, Hotaru would do it herself. She would find the answers to the questions that had plagued her her entire life.

Hotaru scoured her mother's old possessions for hints of these women's identities. And while her mother had unfortunately never seen fit to keep a journal or anything so organised, she finally came across a mixture of scrawled initials and names. 

It had taken a long time to call all the names listed in the phonebook that matched the scrawls and it had been unbearably uncomfortable to call so many strangers (Hello, did you know my mother?) but at long last, she had found the lost identities of the four muses.

And when Hotaru turned twenty and obtained her license, she set off on a journey to finally know her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Winning numerous national amateur competitions with her paintings, Kaiou Michiru captured the interest of the art world from a young age. Despite many offers of mentorship being made to the young artist, she stunned critics and artists everywhere when she announced she would attend the prestigious Mugen University, which did not have an art program at the time. When asked about her decision in later interviews, Kaiou only smiled mysteriously._

_Although many wondered if Kaiou had given up on her art, she came out with a new exhibit at the end of her first year, featuring the first of her iconic and fondly nicknamed 'Four Muses.'"_

_\- “The Life of Kaiou Michiru: A Biography” by Arimura Yuko_

* * *

For every memory that Hotaru did not have of her mother, she had countless other memories with her loved ones. Her grandpa and dad had done their best to make sure that she had grown up loved and when her stepmother had entered the picture, she was just as attentive to Hotaru.

And yet, even with all of those happy memories, from star gazing at night with her parents to having picnics outdoor near the conservatory and chasing butterflies…

There was still a hole in Hotaru’s heart that could not be filled.

She loved her family as much as they loved her but she wanted, no, _needed_ to know who her mother was.

It was this visceral need that gave Hotaru the courage to embark on a cross country road trip and it was why she found herself at Shirakaba University now.

Hotaru stepped into the athletics building, feeling a bit like Alice in Wonderland. Even at her own university, she had never had a reason to step foot in the athletics department as a world history student, nor had she wanted to with her aversion to sports of any nature.

There weren’t many people in the halls, most likely due to it being summer break, and Hotaru felt thankful for this small boon. It took her more time than it would have if there had been people around to ask for directions, but Hotaru eventually found herself standing in front of an office door with the nameplate “Elza Grey.”

All of a sudden, Hotaru felt fear grip her, the reality of her situation suddenly overwhelming her, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. Willing her mother’s famed confidence to enter her, Hotaru knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

She entered and her eyes couldn’t help but look around at the newly revealed room. The office was cluttered with items in a way that suggested the office was not often used, but there was also an abundance of loose photographs stuck to the walls. Many of them featured track students and there were at least two pictures that looked as if they had been taken at the Olympics.

Having satisfied her curiosity, Hotaru now looked at the woman sitting in the center of the room.

The paintings Hotaru had spent so many afternoons poring over were all from different angles, never showing the whole face or body. It felt strange to see the woman as a whole after being intimately familiar with only parts of her.

She recognised the slant of her chin, the strong blue of her eyes, the curve of her ear. But time had also made its mark on the woman; her hair was no longer the bright magenta that streaked the canvases, but a natural dark brown with streaks of grey, and her still golden skin boasted more laugh lines and wrinkles, signifying a lifetime of sunlight and happiness.

Hotaru blinked out of her reverie as she made eye contact with the woman who looked at her with a mild sort of confusion, and she bowed in greeting.

“My name is Kaiou Hotaru. We spoke on the phone last week.”

“Oh yes,” A spark of recognition lit in Elza’s eyes and she looked over Hotaru with renewed interest, “Michiru’s daughter.”

The label filled Hotaru with an inexplicable sort of joy, making her flush. She tried her best to retain her composure, demurely saying, “I’m sure my call took you by surprise.”

“I hadn’t thought about Michiru in years,” Elsa chuckled in amused agreement before turning solemn, “I was sorry to hear she had passed so young.”

Hotaru nodded, accepting the words she’d grown used to hearing for most of her life from adults who more often than not only knew her mother as an artist and not as a person.But Hotaru wanted to focus on her mother’s life, not her death, and so close to a woman who could finally give her some answers, Hotaru could not contain herself anymore, “Could you tell me about her?”

Her earnest request seemed to take the older woman by surprise but Elza looked at her and her eyes softened.

“Of course.”

* * *

_It was a sunny morning and Elza reveled in the sunlight as she ran around the campus. This was her favourite time of day._

_The grounds were fairly empty this early in the morning with the exception of some haggard students who looked as if they had spent the entire night studying and were just now going back to their dorms._

_She had hours of track practice ahead of her today but there was a simple pleasure in having a nice run around a campus that had yet to wake up. Her mind untroubled and blank during her run, it took Elza a second to see the paper floating in the air before her._

_She fell to a stop, leaning down to pick up the paper and looking around for its owner._

_And there in the distance was a woman, rising from her position nestled in between the legs of a statue to run after the papers floating away from her._

_Her steps were light and graceful as she plucked the papers from the air, the sunlight bathing her in a warm glow as if she were a dancer on the stage. Mesmerised by the sight of vivid turquoise hair streaming in the wind, it took Elza a second to realize that the mystery woman was now approaching her with her gaze focused on the paper the runner held._

_Elza smiled at her, handing the paper as she said, “You’re fast. Do you run?”_

_“No,” the woman said, and her voice was every bit as beautiful as her appearance was, “But I’ll walk with you.”_

_Her boldness was unexpected and refreshing and Elza couldn’t contain a wide smile from spreading on her face._

_“Elza,” she introduced herself forwardly and as she had suspected, the woman showed no signs of apprehension at her lack of formality._

_“Michiru.”_

* * *

_The two walked in a companionable silence, enjoying the solitude of the mostly empty campus. Elza couldn’t help herself, sneaking glances at the beautiful woman at her side, her eyes drawn to the small ribbon tied into the aqua tresses. It was an unexpectedly cute addition to an otherwise elegant appearance and the incongruence was strangely endearing._

_“So you’re an artist?” Elza asked, nodding at the sketchbook in the woman’s arms, “I didn’t know our university had an art department.”_

_“It doesn’t,” Michiru said smoothly._

_“Oh, then what do you study?” Elza asked curiously._

_“Art.”_

_Her confusion was all too clearly written on her face as Michiru laughed._

_“Art students are a nightmare,” Michiru offered demurely in lieu of an actual explanation, “I’d hate to be surrounded by others like me.”_

_“I don’t know, you don’t seem so bad,” Elza said, hoping she’d read the other woman correctly and that her flirty response wouldn’t cause her to run off._

_Michiru stopped walking and turned to examine Elza with an unreadable expression until she smiled mysteriously, as if liking what she saw. She pulled a key out and Elza confusedly accepted it._

_“Meet me at the rooftop of the Takeuchi Observatory tonight,” she said and without waiting for an answer, Michiru left her._

* * *

_Her mind had been occupied all throughout practice and the rest of the day. “Night” was such a general term and Elsa puzzled over it before deciding that she would go to the roof as soon as the sun set, no matter if it made her look desperate (there’d never been a question as to whether she would go)._

_A buzz of anticipation filled her as she took the stairs to the roof, two at a time, and she paused only momentarily before using the key to open the door that said “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.”_

_To her immense relief (for a small part of her had wondered if she had imagined the woman and their encounter), Elza found Michiru waiting for her. The artist was still in the same outfit she’d been in that morning, her skirt and long hair swaying in the chilly wind that she seemed not to notice._

_At the sound of the door opening, Michiru turned from her position leaning against the guardrails. There was no sign of surprise or warmth in her eyes, only a calculating light in them that made Elza wonder if perhaps she had made a mistake._

_“I want to paint you,” Michiru declared suddenly, startling the runner._

_“Me?”_

_“Will you let me paint you?” Michiru continued, “You’ll have final say over whether I can exhibit the paintings or not.”_

_Of all the scenarios Elza had imagined happening, this certainly was not one she had predicted. But she had never been the kind of person who shied away from new experiences and Elza simply shrugged, “Depends on how much time it takes. What would I have to do?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“I may not know much about art but even I know you have to model for paintings,” Elza said in disbelief._

_“I’m very good at what I do,” the artist said mysteriously._

_“Sure I guess,” Elza finally said, seeing no reason to refuse if it wouldn’t take too much time away from her sport. At this, Michiru smiled for the first time that night, a look of triumph on her face._

_One of Elza’s defining traits was her openness, never afraid to speak her mind even if it got her in trouble more often than not. And so she spoke plainly, “I was hoping this night would go in a different direction.”_

_Michiru walked closer to the runner then, her eyes glimmering with an indecipherable light. Her hand went to stroke Elza’s cheek, bringing the runner down so they were at eye level._

_“It still can,” she whispered, giving Elza enough time to pull away if she wanted (but she didn’t because her fate had been decided the moment the artist had first spoken to her). And then Michiru’s lips captured hers in a passionate kiss._

* * *

_Elza hadn’t known what to expect after both her agreement to be painted and that first night they’d shared, but Michiru had no such uncertainty and she easily inserted herself into the runner’s busy schedule._

_They shared no classes or extracurriculars but Michiru was by Elza’s side often enough that Elsa found herself missing the artist when she was not there._

_True to Michiru’s word, Elza did not once consciously model for the artist, although a sketchbook was never far from her hands._

_It took a week after their first meeting for Elza’s impatience to make itself known._

_“What are we?”_

_Michiru didn’t bother looking up from her sketchbook, “What do you mean?”_

_Elza propped herself up on her elbows, no longer content to be laying on the grass and enjoying one of her rare free weekends._

_“Are we dating?” Elza asked directly. She already cared deeply for the artist but she wanted to clearly define their relationship before she let herself fall further._

_“Sure,” Michiru said easily, her hand still moving rapidly against the page, and Elza felt as if she could burst with joy. She got up and threw her arms around the artist, picking her up from where she sat leisurely on the fountain and twirling her around, unable to contain her happiness._

_Michiru made a small noise of indignant protest at the sudden movement but it was swallowed into a kiss._

_After thoroughly indulging Elza’s affections, Michiru calmly demanded she be put down and the runner sheepishly obliged. But nothing could dampen her mood, not now that she and Michiru were officially dating._

* * *

_Although Michiru had been to her meets before, Elza was unspeakably nervous for the first meet that the artist would attend as Elza’s girlfriend. It wasn’t a particularly important race and yet nervous energy thrummed throughout her body as if it was._

_During the warm up period, her eyes flickered over to the stands where the spectators stood, the majority of them shouting words of encouragement for the runner they were here to support._

_It took no time at all for Elza to spot the bright turquoise hair of her girlfriend, but even without the benefit of her hair, she felt as if Michiru would stand out in any crowd due to her sheer presence. The artist stood still in the middle of a bustling audience, and for once, her sketchbook was nowhere near to be found. Michiru’s eyes were focused solely on Elza, their blue startlingly piercing even from a distance._

_Contrary to what she had thought, Elza found herself even more anxious after having seen her girlfriend and she shook her head, trying desperately to get her mind back on the race at hand._

_When she raised her head, her mind was clear now, in the zone where the only things that existed in the world were her and the finish line._

_It was only after crossing the final finish line that Elza regained her senses, beaming widely as she realised she had come first in all of her events. Her eyes instinctively gravitated back towards the spectator stand but Michiru was not there and Elza felt a slight sting of disappointment._

_Once the last few ceremonial events ended and the race wrapped up, Elza headed towards the locker room, using a towel to wipe some of her sweat off._

_She was exhausted but in the best sort of way, and it took her a while to notice the artist leaning against the locker room door, waiting for her._

_“Wher-“ Elza began only to be cut off by Michiru’s lips crushing against hers and she melted into the embrace, immediately pulling her waist closer._

_Michiru graced her with a rare smile once she pulled back, seeming not to care that Elza was covered in sweat._

_“Congratulations,” she murmured quietly with a glint in her eyes that promised great things to come. She lightly pulled Elza’s hand, implying she follow her, and Elza followed her all too willingly._

* * *

_The following months seemed to go by in a blur of practices and classes. After that first week, Michiru became an elusive presence in the runner’s life, sometimes disappearing for days on end, presumably to work on projects or study for exams. Elza couldn’t begrudge the artist for that, not when she herself was busy juggling her running and schoolwork._

_It was after two weeks had passed, the longest span Michiru had disappeared for, that she appeared one day, asking Elza to follow her to an art gallery. It was with more than a little relief that Elza followed her; she’d been worried at the long absence, wondering perhaps if she had done something to anger the artist._

_But that worry disappeared as Elza walked around the gallery in wonder. There were numerous paintings adorning the walls, each one framed and positioned precisely, ready to be shown to the public._

_Elza did not know much about art, only the bits and pieces she’d learned while dating Michiru, and perhaps she was biased as the subject of the paintings, but they were utterly captivating._

_None of the paintings showed her entire face or body, all drawn from different angles, but somehow in these small glimpses, Michiru had managed to capture her essence, bold splashes of colour bringing life to an otherwise still gallery._

_That night on the roof, Michiru had said she was very good at what she did and she had not lied._

_“So?” Michiru asked briskly and Elza turned to look at her in awe._

_“They’re amazing,” she breathed._

_The praise fell flat on Michiru who seemed to grow annoyed, “Can I use them? Will you let me display them?”_

_“Yes,” Elza said immediately, “Of course.”_

_She walked over to Michiru, wrapping her arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head._

_“They’re amazing,” Elza repeated before correcting herself, “ **You’re** amazing.”_

_Michiru smoothly disentangled herself from the embrace, making her way out of the gallery, and Elza jogged after her._

_“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked in concern and the artist stared at her coldly._

_“Nothing,” Michiru said, that frosty annoyance creeping into her visage again as if she didn’t know why Elza was speaking to her in the first place._

_Elza didn’t know what to do with the sudden tone shift; it was as if she was speaking to a stranger and not her girlfriend of almost a year now._

_“Do you want to go get coffee?” Elsa asked hesitantly._

_“Why?” The artist asked, “We’re over.”_

_“What?” Elza exclaimed in disbelief, “Are you breaking up with me?”_

_“Yes,” Michiru stated matter-of-factly before walking away._

_But Elza could not accept this and she ran after Michiru once more._

_“I don’t understand, where is this coming from? Wait-“ Elza said desperately, grabbing Michiru’s arm in an attempt to stop her so they could have an actual conversation._

_Michiru whirled around, ripping her arm away from Elza’s grasp, and the iciness in her eyes was replaced by an acute anger that Elza had never seen on the artist’s face._

_“We’re **over** ,” Michiru hissed, anger contorting her beautiful features, “I've finished painting you and now I no longer need you.”_

_The words struck Elza speechless and she could only watch as Michiru turned and walked away, her head held high._

* * *

“That day, I realised that I had never known Michiru. Not really,” Elza mused thoughtfully on her past memories, able to be pensive and unaffected now that years had passed, “I think that was the most honest she’d been with me.”

“But the paintings were so _personal_ … I thought no matter how good of an artist she was, she must have felt something akin to love for me in order to have captured me so perfectly… I tried once more to talk to her but she refused and I finally got the message,” Elza said with resignation, “I never saw her again.”

Hotaru sat frozen in her chair, struggling to grasp this new perspective of her mother: a woman who had seemed to care nothing for others’ emotions. She’d fantasised about her mother so many times but she’d never once thought that she could have been a bad person.

But this was a one-sided account; perhaps Elza wasn’t telling her something crucial, something that would explain why her mother had broken up so callously with a woman who’d loved her. And yet there was a part of her that wholeheartedly believed in what Elza had just told her.

“I see,” Hotaru finally spoke, “Thank you for telling me.”

As if now remembering that Hotaru was Michiru’s daughter daughter, Elza started guiltily, “Yeah yeah. It was no trouble.”

After exchanging polite farewells, Hotaru quietly gathered herself and made her way out, only to pause at the door.

“Did my mother ever speak of someone named Haruka?” She asked.

After a moment of thought, Elza answered with a questioning look “No, I don’t think so.”

Hotaru bowed quickly in thanks and once the door closed, she ran out of the building and out of the university, her mind brimming with even more questions than she'd started with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There are a lot of things that are unclear in this chapter but I’m going to try my best to not spoil anything because answers will come in time. Michiru isn’t going to exactly be a likable character in this- I’ve always been intrigued by how she’s one of the more morally ambiguous characters and that’s the aspect I wanted to focus on for this story. 
> 
> But to be fair, these accounts of the past are going to be biased in one way or another (although they are true), since they’re recounted by other characters without Michiru’s perspective.
> 
> Arimura Yuko is the fake name Eudial had when pretending to be a teacher at Mugen. She's not going to make an appearance but I thought it'd be fun to make her the author of Michiru's biography (she's also biased lol)


	3. Chapter 3

" _Unlike many prolific artists in her time, Kaiou was more conservative, with years often passing between new paintings. The years between her exhibits are shrouded in mystery: an unsurprising fact as Kaiou was infamous for her reticence and enigmatic nature._

_Kaiou’s exhibit featuring the First Muse was released to critical acclaim but Kaiou promptly disappeared from the art world. She lived quietly as a university student before graduating in 19xx and moving to Germany for a year in pursuit of her masters at the famed Traum University. At the end of the year, Kaiou returned to Japan and released her long awaited exhibit featuring the Second Muse.”_

_\- “The Life of Kaiou Michiru: A Biography” by Arimura Yuko_

* * *

As a child, and even now if she was being truly honest with herself, Hotaru had wanted nothing more than to be like her mother. She had little to go off of, yes, but the one indisputable fact that everyone knew of Kaiou Michiru was that she was an unparalleled artist.

Hotaru had tried. She’d tried so hard to get into drawing and painting. She’d begged her father for art lessons and he’d easily given in. But no matter how many art lessons she took and no matter how many things she painted, she just could not do it.

There was just something about her mother’s works that Hotaru’s own lacked: an indescribable spark, a certain je ne sais quoi.

Hotaru learned different techniques and skills to make her paintings look more aesthetically pleasing but after years of trying to force herself, she’d finally accepted that art was not for her. She was not good at it, unblessed in the realm of art, and art simply did not give her any kind of joy.

But that had been how determined she’d been to prove that she was her mother’s daughter, that she possessed even a single similarity to her mother.

One woman’s one-sided story was not enough to dispel twenty years of wanting to know her mother and Hotaru still held hope that the Second Muse might tell her something different.

The Second Muse had been the hardest to arrange to meet due to her busy schedule as a physician. But she had been more than kind on the phone, willing to meet with her during her brief lunch break between cases.

Hotaru now sat at the cafeteria of the Juuban Hospital, feeling antsy in its sterile environment. Ten minutes had passed since their arranged upon meeting time and her eyes anxiously flickered around the room, wondering if she had perhaps not noticed the woman.

“Hotaru-san?”

And there was the Second Muse or Mizuno Ami.

Unlike the past exhibit that had featured glimpses of Elza Grey’s body, the paintings of the Second Muse had focused primarily on her face, although once again, her entire face was never revealed. The paintings were a study of depth, of emotions and hidden strength beneath an exterior. The style of the paintings was evocative of a self portrait - and some critics claimed that this was her mother’s equivalent of a self portrait, or at the very least, the closest thing the world would ever get from her.

It was a testament to her mother’s artistic skills that Hotaru was able to recognise the woman in front of her as the same woman who had been painted twenty five years ago. And yet Mizuno Ami had matured and not just physically; the almost shy exterior seen in the paintings was no longer visible, replaced with the quiet, self-assured grace of a woman who knew her place in the world.

“Mizuno-sensei,” Hotaru greeted immediately, standing up to bow, “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Of course,” Ami said with a small smile that let Hotaru relax and sit across the table from the older woman.

“I was hoping you could tell me about your relationship with my mother,” Hotaru asked more directly than she normally would have been, concerned with how much time the doctor would have to speak with her.

“Yes,” Ami nodded and she shifted into a more precise, almost scientific manner of speaking as she began to tell her story.

* * *

_The corridors were markedly dark and empty as Ami walked in them. It was evening and her fellow classmates were most likely studying at the library._

_Usually, she would have been at the library as well but Ami had reserved the anatomical models for this evening so that she could study them comfortably on her own. While she had already memorised the diagrams in her textbooks, there was something about working hands-on with a movable model that helped her attain that further level of understanding._

_Taking into consideration the fact that she was learning everything in both German and Japanese, Ami had also wanted a chance to study the models by herself without having to worry about sharing or waiting._

_Ami entered the room holding the models and startled upon seeing that she was not alone. The woman looked a little older than Ami, dressed in a white dress shirt that was unbuttoned to reveal a tantalising view of her creamy décolletage. Her bright, turquoise hair was tied up in a high ponytail and even though her eyes were focused entirely on the shoulder model in her hands, Ami felt intimidated._

_“Oh, I’m sorry!” Ami said and the woman looked up at her, “I didn’t know someone else had also reserved the models.”_

_“No, I didn’t reserve it,” she said nonchalantly, staring at Ami as if daring her to make the next move._

_Ami had been flustered since the moment she’d laid eyes upon this mysterious woman and her cheeks flushed as she diplomatically offered, “Well, I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.”_

_Immediately, Ami felt as if she had said the wrong thing because the woman’s interest in her seemed to disappear, focused back on the model in her hand. She continued to examine the model with one hand and draw out sketches in her notebook with the other, and following the woman’s lead, Ami hesitantly took a seat across the woman and pulled out her own notebook._

_An unknown amount of time passed by in silence as they each focused on their respective studies. Although she had been uncomfortable at the beginning, Ami quickly lost herself into her studies, focused on learning the intricacies of the human body._

_Finally feeling satisfied with her studying for the night, Ami looked up for the first time and blinked in surprise when she saw the woman staring at her._

_Her sketchbook lay closed to her side, her chin resting on her hands as she watched Ami with fascination._

_“Will you be my model?” She said suddenly and for as intelligent as Ami was known to be, she struggled to understand what the woman had said._

_“What?”_

_“I want to paint you,” The woman reiterated, staring deeply into Ami’s eyes._

_Ami blushed at the proximity between them; she’d never had someone stare so intensely at her (as if she was the only thing in the world) and she felt as if she could drown in the bottomless depths of the woman’s eyes._

_“Studying takes up most of my time,” Ami began to give her standard (but true) excuse before Michiru put a finger on her lips. The sudden contact immediately made Ami fall speechless and Michiru removed her finger (although a small part of Ami found herself missing the contact)._

_“I’ll make it worth your while,” The woman promised, “You won’t have to do anything.”_

_Against her common sense and everything she knew, Ami found herself agreeing, “Um okay.”_

_The woman’s mouth quirked upwards into a victorious and absolutely beautiful smile and Ami felt her heart skip a beat._

_She offered shyly, “I’m Ami. Mizuno Ami.”_

_“Michiru.”_

* * *

_True to Michiru’s word, she did not require Ami to model or do anything that took her away from her studies. She was a quiet shadow by Ami’s side as she studied, sometimes sketching in her notebook or other times working on her own schoolwork._

_Having little experience with the actual creation of art, Ami wondered if this was a normal part of an artist’s creative process or unique to Michiru alone but she found herself too intimidated to ask._

_Weeks passed and Ami’s curiosity became overshadowed by a sense of guilt. Surely Michiru must have expected something far more exciting than Ami’s monotonous days of studying at the library; but Ami was still in her preclinical years and even if she didn’t have so much to study, she wasn’t the type of person to go out a lot._

_She voiced this to Michiru one day, expressing her sincerest apologies and assuring the artist that she would understand if she chose to pursue another subject._

_But Michiru shook her head, pinning Ami down with those inscrutable and yet unmistakably honest eyes. “You’re fascinating.”_

* * *

_Even after Michiru’s affirmation, Ami wanted to make it up to her; taking a rare weekend off from her studies, Ami asked to meet the artist at a nice cafe near campus instead of their usual spot at the library._

_Ami waited outside of the cafe anxiously._

_While she was well-versed in the intricacies of the human body, matters of the heart were elusive to her.She’d never had time for romance. That was not to say that she’d not had opportunities or interest, but her studies were so important she’d felt hard pressed to follow through on any of those feelings._

_She would have plenty of time to date later on, she’d rationalized. First, she’d needed to focus on maintaining her top rank in high school so that she could transfer to Germany. Then once she’d moved to Germany, she’d needed to focus on doing well in order to get into medical school. Then in medical school, there was so much information she needed to study in order to become the best doctor she could be for the sake of her future patients._

_And so the excuses had piled on until Ami found herself in her early twenties with absolutely zero experience with romance. But then again, even if she had dated, Ami felt as though nothing would have prepared her for Kaiou Michiru._

_There was something so… magnetic about the older woman. She could be quiet but her reticence could never be mistaken for timidity; she had a way of taking up space with such graceful confidence and elegance._

_Michiru made Ami feel completely out of her depth and she nervously smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress as anxiety began to build in her. She began to run through the script she’d come up with and rehearsed the night prior, having approached her feelings with as much logic and precision she usually dedicated to her textbooks._

_Suddenly, new bursts of anxiety filled her as she continued to wait; was she being presumptuous? Had she misread Michiru’s intentions? What if the connection they had built over the past few weeks had been purely platonic? Was she going to make an utter fool of herself?_

_“Ami,” a voice greeted warmly and Ami was pulled from her rapid descent into madness._

_Michiru appeared, her hair braided rather than tied up as it usually was, looking impeccable. She always looked effortlessly chic but she looked particularly put together today, in a loose grey Bardot dress._

_The use of her name made Ami blush. Although she’d gotten used to the lack of suffixes attached to people’s names in Germany, when Michiru said her name, it felt indubitably intimate._

_“You look nice,” Ami managed to say, a faint blush on her cheeks._

_The artist pointedly looked her over as well with a small smile, “As do you. Shall we?”_

* * *

_Although they’d planned to stay in the cafe, they decided to get their drinks to go, walking outside to take advantage of the unseasonably nice weather._

_After a pleasurable stroll around the park during which the conversation flowed easily, they sat down on the park’s fountain. A nice silence settled upon the two, accompanied by the soft, continuous stream of water and the sounds of children playing in the distance._

_Ami took a deep breath in preparation, squeezing her long empty cup tightly in her hands. She knew exactly what she was going to say but it didn’t ease any of her nerves, knowing this._

_'I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. But this is such a critical time for me on my journey to becoming a doctor. It’s really only proper that I devote all of my passion into studying. I would like to get to know you further but I just can’t afford any distractions. I hope you understand.'_

_Ami turned towards the artist, and the words at the tip of her tongue vanished when she saw that Michiru had already been looking at her. She looked unearthly beautiful in that moment, bathed in the light of an early spring sun, the wind gently blowing tendrils of hair away from her face. Her face was an enigma, a mystery that Ami might never hope to solve even if she had thousands of hours to study it, and yet **she** found Ami fascinating._

_In that moment, Ami made a decision._

_“Michiru-san,” Ami said suddenly and the woman tilted her head slightly, silently giving her her attention._

_Ami startled at her own sudden proclamation and she found herself uncharacteristically floundering for words, “I- that is.”_

_She took another deep breath to compose herself before continuing, “I need to remain focused on my studies. I came here to become the best doctor I could possibly be…”_

_“But I would like to get to know you better,” Ami finished determinedly, feeling her heart beat rapidly in her chest._

_Michiru continued to stare silently at Ami after her declaration, until finally her mouth turned upwards in an amused smirk._

_“My, what a confession.”_

_Ami blushed but she forced herself to keep Michiru’s gaze, still waiting for an answer._

_Michiru then gently pulled Ami to her, lifting her chin up with a finger so that their faces were just inches apart._

_“This is purely about the art for me.”_

_“My art is the only thing I care about,” Michiru whispered, their lips so close that Ami could not only hear, but feel the words Michiru was speaking to her._

_Michiru said no more and Ami realised that this was a step that she would have to take, a choice that Michiru had left up to her._

_Ami was filled with an anxiety similar and yet unlike anything she’d ever felt. When she took tests and was faced with unclear questions, she had a firm well of knowledge she could draw upon, the result of countless hours of studying. Even when there was uncertainty, Ami could always logic the answer out._

_But Michiru… was nothing like her tests, was nothing like anything she’d ever studied before and Ami felt as if she was on the tip of a precipice, teetering dangerously over an unknown territory._

_Ami had spent the past twenty some years of her life guided by her head but she followed her gut in this moment, closing the gap between them and kissing Michiru._

* * *

_Nothing changed much after that momentous date at the park._

_Ami continued to study day in and day out and Michiru continued to be a presence by her side, working silently in her sketchbooks._

_But now, they often ended the night at Ami’s apartment, bodies entwined together, and Ami learned firsthand the benefits of learning anatomy hands on._

_Months passed and Ami found herself standing alone at a table, feeling utterly awkward. Michiru had gone to refill their drinks so she didn’t even have the safety of a drink to fall back on as she looked anxiously across the room._

_The school was holding its yearly gala for the medical students, alumni, and donors (it was mostly for the latter two), and while she didn’t normally attend these kind of events, she had decided to come. Part of her had wanted to see Michiru dressed to the nines (and what a stunning figure she made in her form fitting gown), part of her had wanted to dress for Michiru, to stun Michiru herself._

_And the first few minutes of the gala had been amazing, seeing Michiru’s understated but no less appreciative reaction to her. But alone now and surrounded by all of her classmates in a ballroom, Ami wondered if she should have just stayed home._

_She wasn’t particularly close with her fellow classmates. It was more than just the fact that she was a foreign student, although her German had no flaws. Although she’d hoped to leave the rumors that she was a prodigious genius in Japan, they had followed her all the way to Germany and most of her classmates had taken them as a reason to distance themselves from her or view her as competition. There was also the fact that her school ranked students and her consistent ranking as first cultivated just a bit of dislike towards her._

_Many of the conversations she’d first had with her classmates had been them interrogating her on her study methods and them walking away with disappointment, as if they had expected her to have some sort of top secret Japanese technique that would guarantee their grades._

_Of course not all of her classmates were like that and Ami didn’t consider herself entirely friendless. She had friends she got along well with in the classroom, but that was about it. She’d never been asked to hang out outside of class and she wasn’t a part of any of the groups that had seemed to form so easily during their first week._

_Across the room, Ami watched enviously as Michiru seemed to strike up a conversation with the other students at the bar as they all waited for their drinks. She wished she could get along so easily with others._

_The artist quickly made her way back and Ami gratefully accepted her drink, doubly relieved to no longer be alone and to have something in her hands._

_Michiru opened her mouth to say something when suddenly one of her classmates joined them._

_Ivan: he was perhaps the one person Ami had most wanted to avoid tonight. He always took her top ranking as a personal affront to himself, and he had been the most vocal proponent of the rumours that painted her as a robot who knew only how to study._

_But for once, his attention was not aimed at her and instead, at the beautiful woman by her side._

_“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said and he almost sounded charming to the point that Ami was worried Michiru might be convinced. He was admittedly handsome, especially so tonight in his suit._

_“Ivan,” he introduced himself with an outstretched hand._

_But Ami had no need to worry as Michiru took a sip of her champagne in lieu of answering, daintily (or just barely) placing her free hand in his._

_“Are you a new student?” He asked and the aqua haired woman gave him a mysterious smile over the rim of her glass._

_Michiru’s reticence was not due to an inability to speak German; on the contrary, Ami had found the artist was more than proficient in the language, if a bit accented (although they usually talked to each other in Japanese)._

_Undeterred by her silence, Ivan began to speak about something of which Ami promptly forgot as Michiru looked to her with an amused smile as if they were sharing in a secret. Ami took a sip of her own glass as well, fighting to hold back a smile._

_At one point, Ivan paused, presumably waiting for Michiru to respond. Instead, she gave a small, pointed glance toward her glass and without need for a single word, the man promptly said, “Oh! Your glass is empty, let me get you another.”_

_He took her empty glass with him and Ami was more than a little awed at how easily Michiru had managed to take care of him. Even her distaste was cloaked In such elegant affability that he had went away of his own volition._

_“Let’s dance,” Michiru said smoothly, the first words she’d spoken in a while._

_Ami silently nodded, still taken aback by Michiru’s prowess, and Michiru gracefully guided her to the dance floor._

_In her state, it took a couple of moments for Ami to realize that she was now waltzing in the center of the ballroom with Michiru, one of only a few couples currently dancing._

_“They’re staring,” Ami muttered self consciously, her steps beginning to falter. She’d never been one to seek the spotlight, not like this._

_Michiru continued to twirl with Ami across the floor undisturbed, merely saying, “Let them.”_

_And seeing the simple confidence with which Michiru spoke, so utterly unbothered, Ami felt herself relax too, allowing herself to simply enjoy this moment._

_The waltz came to an end and feeling a burst of confidence that was perhaps bolstered by the alcohol she’d had, Ami leaned in to whisper, “I want you.”_

_Her cheeks felt flushed and her entire body felt heated but she continued anyway, “Let’s get out of here.”_

_Michiru turned to look at her, her eyes sparkling with a surprised delight. Riding on the strange boldness that had suddenly taken over her body, Ami took Michiru’s hand and guided the all too willing woman off the dance floor._

* * *

_Once more, time passed and Ami sat at the library, taking a brief break from the dizzyingly dense textbooks that lay open in front of her._

_Although she wanted to be respectful of Michiru’s privacy, she couldn’t help but curiously eye Michiru’s ever present sketchbook._

_Her perceptive eyes missing nothing, the artist silently pushed the sketchbook over to her._

_To her surprise, the sketchbook was not filled with sketches of her as she’d expected but sketches of objects and locations. Upon further inspection, Ami found herself recognizing them; there was her bedroom, her favourite pen, her hands tightly holding onto a disposable coffee cup, the earrings her mother had given her, and so on._

_“They’re beautiful,” Ami offered genuinely, her eyes still captured by the numerous sketches, “I didn’t know you were so interested in still-lifes.”_

_“I’m not,” Michiru refuted coyly and she stared at Ami, as if daring her to say what was on her mind._

_Handing the sketchbook back, Ami relented, tentatively saying, “I was expecting to see some sketches of me.”_

_“They are sketches of you,” Michiru responded, almost as if she was surprised at Ami’s words before modifying her statement, “Parts of you.”_

_“It’s all part of my process,” Michiru finished mysteriously but she rewarded Ami’s forwardness with an offhanded remark as she resumed her drawing, “I’m almost done with your paintings. You should be able to look them over by the end of next week.”_

_“Oh,” Ami said weakly, and suddenly Michiru’s words before their first kiss sprang back to mind. A terrible sadness fell over Ami and a small, selfish part of her wished that Michiru might never finish, that her paintings might disappear somehow so that the artist would be forced to start over._

_“That’s… good to hear,” she finished lamely._

_Michiru let out a noncommittal hmm in response, not noticing Ami’s mood or perhaps noticing and choosing to say nothing._

* * *

_“Michiru?” She called out hesitantly before stepping into the apartment for the first time in the year she’d known Michiru._

_It was unnervingly large in comparison to Ami’s own cramped apartment, with sunlight pouring in through the windows that took up most of the wall. She looked around curiously and saw that every inch of the apartment seemed to have been converted into a studio for the artist. Although she was presumably in the living room, there were easels where a couch would normally be, paint supplies where a bookshelf might be._

_So consumed in studying her surroundings, Ami gasped when a black haired woman suddenly appeared in front of her._

_“Please, follow me,” the woman said._

_She followed the woman and Ami had her breath stolen away upon stepping foot into the room, as she found herself surrounded by numerous paintings._

_Because the woman in the paintings…It was her._

_It was her and yet at the same time, it was so much more than her. The woman in the paintings looked mysterious and yet vulnerable at the same time, a current of strength and self assurance threaded throughout. Although Ami’s self esteem had grown since her shyer days, for the first time, she could see the woman that Michiru had called fascinating._

_Ami could only bask in the paintings for a few seconds before her attention was drawn to the group of people near the back of the room._

_Michiru stood there with a watchful eye, her hair drawn up into a loose ponytail, and her sleeves rolled up._

_“Gently,” she sharply instructed the group of workers who nodded and continued to wrap the painting with more care, eventually placing the final product into a large wooden crate filled with yet more padding._

_Ami’s heart rushed with affection for the artist who knew her so intimately it was as if she’d stripped Ami down to the bone so that she might paint her heart._

_Unknowingly, Ami’s feet carried her toward Michiru and the suited woman followed, although she was far from Ami’s mind._

_Ami felt at a loss for words when Michiru turned sharply to the two._

_“Did you cover it then?” Her words were brusque without a single hint of emotion and Ami felt her heart turn cold._

_“My apologies Kaiou-san,” the woman responded, “I thought I should bring her to you first.”_

_This response was not what Michiru had wanted to hear, judging by the flash of annoyance that flickered across her elegant face._

_“Get to it then,” Michiru ordered dismissively, turning back towards the workers to watch them._

_The woman immediately bowed in contrition and turned to Ami with a packet in hand._

_“This is a contract stating that you allow for the public release of this exhibit in which you are a featured model,” she began in a strictly professional manner and Ami reluctantly tore her eyes away from the woman who didn’t even bother looking back at them._

_“What?” Ami asked, blinking furiously._

_“This is a contract,” she repeated but the words she said afterwards were once again lost to Ami who stared at Michiru’s back._

_Although Ami was smarter than to sign a contract whose contents she had not read, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and she knew that she would not be able to focus. Soullessly, Ami signed the proferred contract._

_Ignoring her better instincts,Ami took a small step towards the artist._

_“Michiru-“ she started only to be cut off by Michiru who turned around and saw the newly signed paper in the lawyer’s hands._

_“Thank you,” Michiru nodded perfunctorily and the distance in her voice, the absence of any emotion other than politeness, stung Ami more than any physical injury could. She took a step back, trying to contain her emotions but knowing she was failing._

_“I’ll escort you out,” the lawyer seemed to take pity on her, guiding her out of the room and Ami was too heartbroken to offer any sort of resistance._

_At the entrance, they both fell to a stop._

_“The exhibit will be held next week in Japan,” the woman said suddenly, “You are, of course, welcome to attend if you are available.”_

_Even if Ami had had the time and money to fly to Japan and back, the idea of Michiru acting so coldly to her once again shook her out of any such fantasy._

_“No,” Ami said faintly, “I don’t believe I am.”_

* * *

“I never saw her again,” Ami said with a detached sort of wistfulness that was only possible due to the long amount of time that had passed.

The doctor shook her head, “It was foolish of me to expect more when she’d warned me from the beginning. And I was the one who’d drawn the line in the first place, saying I needed to focus on my studies.”

Ami continued with a sigh, touching a silver ring on her left hand for comfort, “But I’d fallen in love with her and when I saw the paintings… I thought for a split second that she must have felt something for me too.”

“I thought about looking for her once I graduated and came back to Japan,” Ami said suddenly, “but I didn’t know what I’d say. For as strong as she painted me, I never was able to draw up the courage.”

The beep of a pager suddenly disrupted Ami and she stood up after reading the message.

“I’m afraid I have to excuse myself.”

“Oh yes, thank you,” Hotaru said, drawn out from the silence that had befallen her as she’d listened to the doctor’s story.

Ami hesitated before leaving, her eyes filled with belated concern, “I’m sorry if that’s not what you were looking to hear.”

“No, no,” Hotaru shook her head emphatically, “I wanted to hear what you had to say.”

There were a million thoughts warring in her mind but Hotaru forced herself to focus to hurriedly ask one last question, “Did my mother ever speak of someone named Haruka?”

Ami paused to think before answering in the negative and Hotaru bowed in thanks.

After a quick nod, Ami hurried off and it was many minutes before Hotaru found herself able to leave the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ami's a better student than me because I need to study but I also needed to just get this out of me so I could stop thinking about it. (i got so much of the later plot down though, I'm so excited)
> 
> I lowkey wrote a smutty scene for Ami and Michiru which is crazy because I don't even like ami/michiru as a couple haha. I couldn't fit it into the chapter though (to hotaru's relief because she doesn't want to know the intimate details of her mother's past lol) 
> 
> I based Ami's initial rxn to Michiru (I need to study) on Ami's character in the manga short, "Ami's First Love.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is an idea that's plagued me for years since I wrote the short "Ephemerality of Muses" and I'm finally taking another stab at it. 
> 
> This is set in some vague time period, 19xx, when landlines/phone directories are a thing but the Internet is either nonexistent or in its early phases for my convenience.


End file.
